Life Rewritten
by Death's Counterfeit
Summary: She is left to a life without her soulmate. She is left to a life with the Nightworld. She is left to a life, a conspiracy. Is it possible for the one you love most to be taken from you twice? Comments appreciated!
1. A Dark Introduction

Disclaimer: You know what I don't own. If you don't…what you doin' here, hon?

Summery: She is left to a life without her soulmate. She is left to a life with the Nightworld. She is left to a life as a hunted human. She is left to a life, only dreams of her soulmate to sustain her. Can she survive the darkness?

_"She felt his kiss all over again…"_

Life Rewritten – A dark introduction.

She went through with the motions, inhaling pain with every step, revelling in a loss that went deeper than herself. It was cold without him, from the day his life was so briskly snuffed out, her private hibernation had taken precedence over everything else; friends, laughter, breathing. It was her dreams that were her escape, the catalyst for any moment she would be again able to glimpse his opaque emerald eyes.

The day Sade Redfern died was the day Char Winters died in the most metaphoric way possible. It was the day she unintentionally entered a realm of darkness never meant to be known or seen by the human eye, it was the day ignorance was wrongly appreciated.

The day Char's soulmate died was the first day she really lived.

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Char and Sade sat in the middle of what looked like a world that had ended; dead trees, polluted skies, there was no life and not one shred of hope for rebirth in the barren wasteland which was Char's dream. They sat side by side as the wind gently disrupted their hair and looked at the ground, silence grasping the moment.

"It's been two weeks," Sade said softly, drawing patterns into the dirt with his white sneakerd shoe, "you need to stop dwelling in this."

Char look at his solemn profile and knew he was right. But she had never been strong, there had never been a need to; there had always been someone there to shield her, be strong for her. And now that person was gone.

"I know," she replied quietly as he extended his pale hand to hold her own. She looked down at their intertwined fingers and felt a deep ache in her chest at the familiar, but terrifying, thought of living without him.

"Maybe you should start watching Dr. Phil," Sade suggested sarcastically as he saw tears begin to form in his soulmate's eyes.

This comment earned him a small smile from Char's lips, "I hope your suggestion is only in the light of entertainment in the form of comedy and not of pending insanity," she countered dryly, closing her eyes as she did so.

"Both," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her trembling lips as her dream began to slowly dissipate.

She lost him all over again.

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Char's eyelids reluctantly parted to reveal her dim and cluttered room. Her dream came rushing back to her as she slowly sat up, and she lifted her fingers to her lips as she felt his kiss all over again. Breathing air in through her nose was suddenly regretted as its smell was registered as disgusting, cheese like, and possibly lung shrivelling. All of a sudden painfully awake, she forced herself out of bed and made her way quickly over to the windows, tripping over multiple shoes, slipping on numerous pieces of paper and standing on what proved to be dangerously sharp objects. Once at her destination, she swiped open the curtains and ignoring the burning sensation in her eyes caused by the foreign sunlight, opened all of her windows, sticking her head out of the rectangular one to provide her lungs with air considerably healthier than that of her room.

Her eyes again accustomed to light, she turned to survey her now not so dim room, its smell slightly better. That or her immune system had actually accepted its air as non-life threatening and numbed her senses to its smell. It was in a complete disarray, her dark brown floor boards weren't visible, all surfaces were covered with either clothes, CDs, books, or paper and throwing a glance towards her wardrobe it appeared that she had decided it had not been designed for clothes, but for purely clothes hangers and a single cup of tea. Which, by the way, was growing. Sighing, and grumpily dragging her hands through her ash blond hair she carefully made her way towards the door, and exited her room seeking a more desirable location.

In the hallway Char's gaze found her best friend Roz, smoking a cigarette while sitting with her back against the door frame, blowing the smoke outside while closing her eyes in what appeared to be mock meditation. Her short curly black hair coiled slightly to frame her bronzed complexion as she turned her face, eyes still closed, towards her.

"Good afternoon, babe," she drawled, dragging again on her cigarette, "how's the ignoring your life going, peachy?"

Char smirked at her friend as her eyelids suddenly flung open to reveal sparkling brown eyes, "as opposed to your development of lung cancer?"

"Yeah, why not," Roz replied dryly, leaning over to stub out her cigarette on the outside concrete and then standing up in one fluid movement, reminding Char of water.

Roz walked past Char, squeezing her friends arm as she did so and smiled warmly, "By the way babe, stakes are in the pantry."

Blinking uncomprehendingly as Roz disappeared from view, Char contemplated why the hell meat would be stored in the pantry. It wasn't long before she froze in remembrance at the day, exactly 12 days ago the Nightworld had been revealed to her. Recalling the sharpness of Roz's fangs as she had hesitantly touched one to determine whether it was real, she felt a slight headache announce itself. Sade had been one too. She had forgotten all that had made her afraid, temporarily, and now that it was remembered she knew she was lucky to still be alive.

She knew Roz wouldn't develop any semblance of lung cancer any time soon.

She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing.

All she knew was that it wasn't meat that was in the pantry.


	2. The Past, It Haunts

Reviewer responses:

Emba: Thanks for the review; I'm glad you liked the first chapter :). Ja, I will definitely go into more detail about Sade's past (including his death), I will be incorporating it into the present story line, just like I have done so in this chapter. Hopefully it isn't too confusing. Thanks for reading!

Incarnated-Soul: Hahaha, although I am known for my lack of dependability concerning anything, I know I will not abandon this story. I think I love it too much :P. More will be revealed about Sade and Char's relationship and such as the story goes along, as you will see in this chapter I'm incorporating the past into the present. Thankyou!

Galahad Cat: LOL!!! Oh my god, I cannot tell you how much of a wild goose chase I went on to correct my mistake! Because you put "stakes in the panty" (I'm very familiar myself with typos, so no worries) and so I'm absolutely horrified that I could write such a thing and search and search the chapter for it…that is until I realise. Lol! Oh god. But anyway, thankyou so much for pointing out my mistakes, it was very much appreciated. Thanks for reading and reviewing! Haha, and thanks for recommending my story to Emba too, I feel so special :)

Disclaimer: You know what I don't own. If you don't…what you doin' here, hun?

Summery: She is left to a life without her soulmate. She is left to a life with the Nightworld. She is left to a life as a hunted human. She is left to a life, only dreams of her soulmate to sustain her. Can she survive the darkness?

_"Her dark blue eyes, they blinked and gained a glazed focus that despite its mystery, seemed to penetrate him…"_

Life Rewritten – The past, it haunts.

_6 months earlier: _

His dark brown hair was still messy and out of an undefined place, his dark green eyes still reminded her of the dimensions of a cut emerald, and the comforting sense of knowing his presence was just as noticeable, just as treasured. Closing in the space between them, she hugged him tightly and whispered happy birthday into his ear. It seemed a part of normalcy to Char, to kiss a close friend's cheek, especially so on their birthday. But as her lips connected with the smoothness of Sade's skin, all sense of normalcy was eradicated as she jumped back at the physical shock of what felt like fireworks exploding on her lips, within her chest. It was the same feeling she got when a noise ripped her from falling into peaceful sleep, the kind you expected from something so specific, abnormal, something slightly dangerous.

Not a kiss.

The shock which widened Char's eyes desperately sought a similar reaction from Sade as he nonchalantly stood there, his head curiously tilted to the side, his expression blank as though an explosion of a catastrophic kind had not just occurred.

"Is ah, is something wrong?" he asked, the smile pulling at his lips suggesting all was ordinary, with him at least.

She regained control of her mouth before it could drop and make a most comic hole in Roz's and Seb's perfectly polished oak floorboards, instead vying for a casual and hopefully sane shrug of the shoulders. "No, nothing's wrong…"

"Good," Sade replied, turning and walking towards the doorway.

"Apparently."

He couldn't help but waver and stop after her softly spoken word, hearing it so clearly despite its whispered form. But before he cold turn, before he could begin a potential tragedy of the sweetest kind, he pictured her again; lifeless, bloodless. Gone.

He could suddenly walk again.

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_The present:_

Char was in her room trying to tidy it up, make it a fraction more liveable when Seb poked his shaved head around the door. "Hey, can I come in?"

"Enter at your own risk," she answered darkly around a hat, one she wasn't sure was supposed to have blotches of green.

"Why, are you going to try futilely to hurt me?"

"No, but that suspiciously fuzzy cup of tea over there might."

"Attractive."

Throwing the mystery hat in the general area of 'never to be touched, ingested or worn again' Char finally smiled up at her friend, into his warm brown eyes. "Yes, that seems to be the majority's opinion."

Seb cautiously entered the room, taking the route towards the bed farthest away from the cup of tea in question. After successfully dodging all obstacles, he threw himself down onto the unmade destination, its white sheets madly arranged.

He was staring at Char with an expression disturbingly void of emotion, an unnerving trait him and his twin, Roz, shared and one which had recently never failed to make her squirm. "You're looking at me like that again," she stated mildly, directing her eyes towards the open windows so she didn't have to meet his vacant umber gaze.

Her words initiated a familiar but saddening silence, the vampire and the human speechless in their differences and their perceptions. "How come," Seb started coldly, "you could accept Sade when he told you the truth, but now, when it counts the most you can't even look me in the eye? Sade wasn't any less of a killer than me, or any closer to human."

With tears welling in her eyes, anger welling within her heart, she kept her head turned away from one of her closest friends, wishing all the flaws that made her weak a death quite permanent and sudden. "I'm sorry."

Silence again filled in the gaps as a tear burned down her cheek, and she kept her gaze away from Seb so he didn't see her. It wouldn't be as bad, she thought as her watery vision blurred the mess on her floor, if Roz and Seb weren't so strong, if i weren't so cut from my life exploding so unexpectedly.

"I know you're crying."

"Shut up, I'm not."

"Oh you are so. You're cute when you cry though, you shouldn't hide it."

Char sniffed and faintly smiled, her vision slowly clearing. "You suck."

"Am I the only one seeing the irony in that statement?" Seb drawled, eyeing Char carefully to gauge her reaction. Her face was still turned away from him but he could sense she was tense, though there was no fear.

"No, you're not."

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_5 months earlier:_

It glistened in the sunlight; a perfect drop of liquid dancing hesitantly on his tip, so fragile, so red. And then she looked up into his eyes, unwilling to allow herself to speak, fearing herself more then him in a moment she knew would create her future. Their future. She saw emotion filling his dark dimensions which were usually empty, the sadness, the exhaustion, the tenderness which took its mysterious place. Char did not fear Sade as he closed his mouth to hide his truth, she didn't flinch as he raised his hand to gingerly touch just beneath the punctures, which for the first time blemished her suddenly fragile neck. Her entire body felt as though it had collapsed in on itself, and she was glad of the soft green grass she was kneeling on, glad of its stability, that she could rely on it not to let her fall. It's times like these, she thought as Sade dropped his hand, his kneeling position mirroring her own only inches away, that i wished there were a guide book: what to do when a vampire's your soulmate.

He took her hands in his, both of their hands warming instantly at connection. "Say something."

Her gaze was blank, unseeing, and for a moment he was afraid he had taken too much blood. But her dark blue eyes, they blinked and gained a glazed focus that despite its mystery, seemed to penetrate him. Again he felt as though she were searching him, as though she were trying to find something in him that she thought should be there, but couldn't find, couldn't detect. She would probably never find it.

She broke their gaze and looked down at his pale hands holding her own, thinking they looked so perfect together, thinking that maybe her hands were made to be in his. "I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Even if I get up and walk away right now, this very moment, without looking back, and tomorrow I look at you as though it were yesterday, I wouldn't lose you?"

He looked at her as she focused on their hands, as though they were the only things keeping her sane. "Would I lose you?"

"No," she murmured, feeling weak and uneasy.

When she looked up at him again, her face the picture of torment, he couldn't help but feel it was the biggest mistake of his life as his lips found hers to kiss, determined not to let her walk away. An even bigger one when it felt as though he was dissolving into her, knowing that he was hers.

Her knowing that she was his.

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_The present:_

"Damon."

"Monty Python."

"Hitler."

"Stalin."

"Fat man on nude bea-"

"Huh?" Char blinked herself out of her reverie as Roz and Seb recited the names of the people whom they thought had shaped the 20th century. Roz had entered Char's room and was making as though she wasn't polluting it by blowing her cigarette smoke out the open window.

"Oh, so she finally decides to enter the conversation," Seb began, still lying nonchalantly on her bed. "By the way, your lack of eloquence is truly an inspiration."

"That's hardly how you talk to a lady, brother dear," Roz interjected, looking inquiringly at her cigarette. "Now be good and go get me an ashtray."

Char glared at Seb, resentfully aware of the smoke which was wafting its way into her lungs. "I have eloquence, it's just very subtle."

He raised an eye brow and her glare increased. "Since when has subtlety been a virtue? If Marilyn Monroe had been subtle, Playboy wouldn't be the magazine under the mattress."

"And the fact that Marilyn Monroe committed suicide means nothing to you?

"Precisely."

"Hey, Voice Of Stupidity!" Roz barked, throwing her cigarette out the window. "Didn't I tell you to get me an ashtray?"

"No," Voice Of Stupidity countered mildly.

Roz just sat there and blinked blankly, her brother casually eying her. "Brother, I officially disown you."

"And, former sister, I shall mourn the pain in my ass."

Char sat there and sighed, bored with their usual disowning routine. "You both suck."

Roz laughed as Char inwardly groaned; voice of stupidity indeed. "Pffft, and you said she wasn't eloquent," Roz smirked, turning her head to look out the window.

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_5 months earlier:_

Both of their eyes were smouldering as though about to burst into flame, their usually playful umber gazes becoming decided dark and ominous. Sade sat there under the scrutiny of Roz and Seb, both looking as though they wanted to skew him numerous times with tooth picks of mass proportions.

"You realise what you've done," Roz began, her voice laced ice. "We've talked about this before, and we agreed, we agreed that we wouldn't bring her into this."

"I know."

Seb blinked. "Yes you did know. Did you also know she would die if she was?"

"She's not going to die."

"Yeah well see the thing is," Roz started. "This isn't 'The Wizard of Oz', you aren't Dorothy and Char isn't her fucking dog. The fact here is that you may have just killed my best friend. Does she know about the Nightworld?"

"No."

"Seb and I?"

"No."

Roz searched his eyes, looking for some truth or any shred of emotion. But he was blank, unpredictable, just like the situation at hand. "If she dies, and it's because of you, I'll kill you."

Sade stood and reached into his jeans' pocket for his keys, staring down into Roz's burning eyes. "If she dies, and it's because of me, I'll kill myself."

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Hey guys, thanks for reading. Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated. Sorry for the late update :(


	3. Not Without You

Disclaimer: You know what I don't own. If you don't…what you doin' here, hun?

Summery: She is left to a life without her soulmate. She is left to a life with the Nightworld. She is left to a life as a hunted human. She is left to a life, only dreams of her soulmate to sustain her. Can she survive the darkness?

A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed; Shane's Gal, Jega, Galahad Cat, Dogs Die in Hot Cars, and Incarnated Soul. I really love reviews, so it means a lot that you took the time to comment. I'm sorry it's so sad, lol, hopefully it might improve.

"_It was only until she reached out to grip again her friend's hand that she really understood the gravity of what was happening.…"  
_

Life Rewritten – Not without you

_5 months earlier:_

"It is essential to have your grip perfect; firm, comfortable, controlled." Sade held a 20cm stake. It was white and unnervingly pointy, with the vampire's hand wrapped around its upper half, his thumb resting on its flat top.

Char watched, slightly bewildered, as he place one foot in front of the other, his face unreadable as he stared down at the ground. "Your stance is also important; you will need to put all your body weight into your stab in order to gain a penetrable force and speed."

He demonstrated the action, noticeably transferring his weight from his back foot onto his front and stabbing the stake into the air before him in a single motion, a motion which reminded Char of a sacred ritual; almost lovely in its grace and precision. "I don't understand why you can't just stay with me at all times, like a body guard. It worked for Whitney Houston," she stated, eyeing apprehensively the fine point of the stake.

Sade smiled softly, discreetly hiding the apparently mesmerising piece of wood behind his back. "You need to know how to defend yourself. Whitney Houston didn't have a vampire problem."

"Oh c'mon, it's been two weeks and nothing out of the ordinary has happened; you could almost say I'm disappointed at the amount of anti climax."

"You," Sade started, shoving the stake into Char's hands, "need to practise, because I'm not going to have you face to face with a vampire and then whining, after I save your tedious ass, that I was a crap how to kill a vampire teacher."

"But you are a crap how to kill a vampire teacher."

"I resent that statement in numerous ways."

Char smiled brightly, running her fingers up and down the stake. "But I still love you, is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's ok."

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_The present: _

The parents of Roz, Seb and Sade all came to New Zealand in order to escape the vast myriad of crime and death which surrounded the Nightworld. It was a country which wasn't very familiar with such a dark society, and it seemed to hold a new beginning for them and their children; a clean slate to carve a future which would resemble none of their blood smeared past. But as Seb looked into his father's bottomless umber eyes, he couldn't help but feel that there was now an ominous shadow darkening that slate.

"Nightworld activity in the region has increased since Sade's death." Mr. Moss frowned, his words seeming to increase the depth of his brow's furrows. "Which isn't a surprise; he was a Redfern afterall. But what concerns me is that this increase isn't decreasing; it would almost seem as though the Nightworld has discovered New Zealand."

"Stop being so melodramatic, Father," Seb scoffed, a smile tingeing his face, "So Nightworlders are more aware of this location? It's hardly going to be the end of us. In fact, it could make life that much more interesting; American shapeshifters are always so ridiculous."

Mr. Moss narrowed his eyes, his son's arrogance again cause for his amusement and frustration. He knew it had been a hard few weeks for his children; the death of Sade had been hard on all of them. But his son's reaction to the ordeal had left him slightly puzzled; it was a closed sort of grief, one not so pure - the sadness he sometimes discovered in his expression was laced with a worry which shouldn't come with such a death.

"You best watch your words, Sebastian."

"I would if I could, Father. But it would seem words are invisible, and therefore, especially hard to observe."

"It's times like these I wish vehemently you were adopted," his father proclaimed indignantly, heading towards his cigars.

"Oh stop, your love for me is becoming too much to bear," Seb replied sarcastically, glancing casually at the books which lined his father's library. "Now what did you want to see me about? If it's about the Nightworld I'd prefer to leave you alone to your melodramatic conspiracy theories."

Cursing the day he accepted Seb as his son, Mr. Moss lighted the cigar which he had placed in his mouth, inhaled and then allowed the velvet smoke to escape his mouth, to caress the dim air. "Actually, I was wondering if you cared to tell me what you find so worrisome about the Sade situation? That is, before, I figure it out myself and devise a punishment for you consisting of concerning amounts of sharp wood." He watched his son's face carefully as his words were heavily comprehended, and as Seb's expression registered nothing more and nothing less than the moment before, his father knew there was something seriously wrong.

"As much as I would love to enlighten you, I have no information to do so with."

His father drew his cigar nonchalantly from his mouth, proceeding to smother its glow in the glass ashtray. "Your mistake has always been you were too good a liar."

Seb's gaze followed the tendrils of smoke which kissed the air, higher and higher. "I've never viewed my lying capabilities as a mistake."

"Nothing is perfect, Sebastian. Your lying; it's perfect."

The smoke dissolved eventually as it got closer and closer to the roof, not quite it seemed, reaching its goal. "Tell Mother I said hi and that Roz will be visiting tomorrow." And with that, Seb strode out of his father's library, away from his stripping stare, and out of his childhood home; realising again, for the tenth time in the past two weeks, that he was no longer a child.

He was no longer unaccountable for his own actions.

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"We need to talk."

Roz was leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, her brazen black hair providing a shocking contrast against the white of the wood. Her friend sat at the kitchen table, vacantly sipping at a cup of tea, and Roz began to regret her words.

Char blinked, looking up blankly from her cup of tea through the steam. "What about?"

"Sade's accident."

"Uh huh," she murmured, staring back down into the umber depths of her drink, allowing its particles to cloud her vision. Char didn't want to talk about the accident, it was an event in her life which she preferred not to think about in too much depth, or know about in too much depth. Whenever she did think about it, she couldn't help but start a ferocious cycle of "what if", which brought about more questions; more answers she preferred to live in ignorance of. She was beginning to warm to the concept of denial.

Roz quickly left her position against the door frame and slithered into the seat opposite her, laying her hands down determinedly on the table. "I'll take that as my cue to start before you decide to completely abandon reality. As you know, Sade was driving your car when your brakes failed."

She took note of Char's expression, still decidedly blank, and continued. "It is a distinct possibility that the brakes were not broken naturally or innocently so, and that it was a plot to kill. Presumably, one to kill you."

Char wasn't at all surprised; she had already come to that same conclusion the night she was told Sade had been burnt to death – in her car. It was all too close for comfort. "Yeah, I know, and you're probably right."

Roz leaned back in her seat, allowing it to creak in gentle protest, and sighed. "So, you are realistically aware of the danger you may be in then?"

"Yes."

"This, preferably, is the precise moment where fear is supposed to kick in."

Char continued to look down into her tea, its surface ironically tranquil. "Yes I know, I am scared."

"Look, I don't think you fully get this, you are fucked. Not only do you know vampires exist, but you also now know about the Nightworld and all the creatures under its umbrella; its traditions, its secrets."

When she didn't look up Roz slammed her fist down onto the table, reverberating its wood and causing Char to jump, some of her tea spilling onto her pale hand. "Do you want to live or not?" Roz questioned, her eyes finally finding Char's to pierce.

"Of course I do."

"Look babe, I hate to be reality's bitch, but Sade is gone. You need to start living like you want to see tomorrow; you need to start walking like something isn't holding you back. Sade is gone."

Putting down her half empty tea, Char scrapped her chair back noisily, its wood travelling fast and unprecedented across the worn yellow lino. "I know that, you don't have to remind me."

Roz watched as her friend got up and walked out of the kitchen, rubbing her forehead slightly. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"WHAT?"

Roz was suddenly in front of Char, her hand gripping her shoulder. "You can't leave here."

"I can and I will. It's pure daylight, I'll keep away from bushes, I won't go into any parks, I'll keep it simple, I'll be back in 15 minutes, I'll come back alive so just let me go."

They attempted to stare each other down; Roz in anger, Char in defiance. But the human was the one to first break eye contact, and the vampire was the first one to move aside, allowing her best friend to stalk out the front door and slam it behind her. Roz reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, leaning against the wall as she lighted up and inhaled, blowing it slowly out and closing her eyes.

"Ok then," she murmured, beginning to shadow Char's own path to the door, strolling towards the exit.

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Char stalked down the street and consciously breathed in the crisp air of the afternoon for the first time in weeks, noting that it tasted distinctly different. She wasn't sure she liked it. There were many cracks in the pavement; some fine, some rugged and aggressive and threatening to continue their angry rampage. She was tempted to avoid the cracks as the footpath began to become smoother and less worn, but in realisation at her lapse back to childhood, she stamped on one intentionally; only to realise that was possibly more childish.

She was pissed off with herself; and especially aware that each step, and each glance at the clear blue sky she took could be her last. Roz was only trying to help her, she knew, and sometimes she wanted that help – sometimes she didn't. But when the subject of Sade came up, and the situation of her possible early pending death, it was disconcerting in how much she didn't care. She felt pathetic allowing a man to cause her such pain and destruction; no matter how much she had loved him.

A little boy was standing on the pavement about 20 metres in front of her, his red hair gleaming under the sunlight. She estimated he was about eight or nine years old as he swung a plastic sword about him, no doubt imagining he were slaying a particularly evil monster. As she approached the boy, he stopped his slaying and peered up at her through his fringe, a frown replacing his mask of concentration.

"Hello, my name's Rye. What's yours?"

"Hi, I'm Char," she replied, smiling at his proper greeting.

"Do you want to play with me?"

"I would, but-"

"CHAR RUN!"

She registered the smell of tobacco as she whipped her head around to see Roz sprinting at frightening speeds towards her. She turned back around to face the little boy only to feel a cold stream of fear rush down her spine; the silver dagger he pulled out of his plastic sword was as sharp as the concentration and intelligence etched in his face. Shadowed eyes looked up to meet hers, the vacancy in them seeming to expand as he stabbed lightening pain into her abdomen, two times, three times.

"YOU FUCKING LITTLE SHIT I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!" Roz leapt into the air and tackled the boy as he turned to run, throwing him to the ground, and picking up his head to slam it forcefully into the pavement. "You don't fucking mess with us, how many times have I told you not to fucking mess with us?" She placed one knee on his back as she retrieved a black stake from under her skirt, holding it to the boy's neck as she turned his body to face her as it lay passively.

Char groaned and fell to her knees as she clutched her stomach, the searing pain she felt was something she found mentally unable to comprehend; she felt the dagger going in, over and over again. Though despite her wounds, she watched as Roz plunged the piece of wood into Rye's chest, watched as she turned to face her with resignation lacing every dark segment of her eyes.

"Char; Char, I'm so sorry, Char…" Roz crawled over to her friend, took her in her arms, and lay her body down slowly onto the ground, beginning to gently caress her forehead, trying to distract her from the pain which caused her to writhe.

Roz didn't notice the pounding of footsteps down the pavement until a shadow was cast upon her and Char, blocking out all sunlight. She looked up to see Seb standing there, staring angrily down at the blood drenched body which lay barely conscious on the ground. "We have to get her back to the flat."

"She should be going to a hospital, but I know she won't make it."

"We couldn't take her to a hospital anyway."

Roz looked back up at Seb incredulously. "Like fuck we couldn't."

"We need to get her away from here before a crowd gathers; I've already seen a few curtains twitching."

"Fine, let's go. You take Char, I'll take care of Rye; I'll only be a minute."

Seb resisted the urge to start kicking the dead body of the vampire and gingerly scooped Char up, her back arching as she cried out in pain, and ran towards the flat.

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Once Seb got back to the flat he grabbed a towel from the bathroom and carried Char into the lounge, laying her down on its cold wood. He gathered up cushions from the sofa to put under her head. Strands of her ash blonde hair lay pasted to her face with blood and sweat, and he gripped her hand as her shivers became more violent, her blue eyes becoming more invaded with torture and vacancy. His other hand pulled up her top enough so he could apply the towel and pressure to her wounds; hoping to save some blood.

"I can save you," he rushed as her eyes threatened to tremble shut, "I can make you a vampire and it'll all be ok. You won't have to worry about the Nightworld and you can live, you won't die."

At this Char's eyes seemed to gain a new spark as they flew open, her hand suddenly tightening in his. "No, no let me die, please. Don't…"

He raised her slim wrist up to his mouth. "Don't worry, it'll be ok."

Roz ran into the room then, skidding to a halt beside Char, and knelt down to take her other hand. "You are not going to make her a vampire."

Seb kept his attention focused on Char, his eyes narrowing as he felt her pulse begin to slow. "This is none of your business, Roz."

"Yes it is. She doesn't want it, so don't fucking do it."

He couldn't believe his twin; she was willing to let her best friend die when she could easily save her. He looked up at her; her eyes were sad but hard. Roz kissed Char's hand and her friend smiled weakly up at her, a tear running down her cheek. And then she smiled up at Seb, the same she gave to Roz; a final smile, a smile which seemed to say, "I give up, I love you, but I give up".

That was when he bit.

Char let out a cry of anguish while Roz lashed out at her brother, her hand suddenly gripping his throat. "Let her go."

Seb removed his teeth from Char's wrist while drawing a stake from his belt and in one swift motion positioned it against his sister's abdomen; black and sharp. "Don't make me do this," he growled, pressing it harder against her skin.

"You bastard," she spat, angrily removing her hand from his throat.

Looking Roz in the eye, he put his lips once more to Char's wrist and began again to take blood. Paying careful attention to her pulse and to Roz's hands, still holding the stake against her abdomen, he ignored his Char's whimpers; the twitches her hand made in weak protest. As Seb's eyes began to take on a distracted glaze, Roz made for the stake beneath her skirt, but Seb's eyes snapped back into attention and he plunged his own into her stomach before she could reach it, before her hand could even graze it.

Betrayal was the only emotion which showed in Roz's eyes; no pain, no anguish. And as she gripped her brother's stake, she looked at him as though he were a stranger, an intruder; someone she had never known, someone she had never wanted to know.

It was only as Roz's eyes began to close that she noticed Char was barely whispering a single word; only as she saw Seb remove his lips and she began to crumple on her side to the floor that she deciphered what it was she was saying; and it was only until she reached out to grip again her friend's hand that she really understood the gravity of what was happening.

No; she was saying no.

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A/N: O-O – Thanks for reading ;) Comments and constructive criticism are, as always, so appreciated.


	4. Such Difference, Such Disruption

Disclaimer: You know what I don't own. If you don't…what you doin' here, hun?

Summery: She is left to a life without her soulmate. She is left to a life with the Nightworld. She is left to a life as a hunted human. She is left to a life, only dreams of her soulmate to sustain her. Can she survive the darkness?

A/N: Thank you to all who reviewed; Incarnated Soul, Shane's Gal, and Annemarie Delacour. As always, they were muchly appreciated. I'm sorry if this is confusing, I really am, I just hope you can all bear with me. If you mention places/concepts/events which are a tad blurry, I'll try my best to clarify things in the next chapter. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy :).

"_She found herself knowing exactly what it would feel like for him to graze her skin, so softly.…"_

Life Rewritten – Such difference, such disruption

_The present – **20 years later:**_

Char frowned down at the purple sneakers she was wearing, coming to the conclusion they were indeed the most frightening pair of shoes she had ever seen. She was at the gym, sitting on a bench, with her head between her legs; a vain attempt to disappear from the demonic force that was Rosemary Moss. The shoes had been a gift from her, and therefore, the obligation was there for Char to wear them and also, it seemed, at the same time feel like a certified idiot.

"You look like you've just seen a dead cow." Char looked up to see Roz standing above her, arms folded, and lips twisted into a smug smile. "Now get up, follow me."

Char groaned and slowly removed herself, adjusting her white crop top. Roz struck a pose in her own little red singlet top and rugby shorts too short for comfort, knowingly emphasising each elegant curve of her body, as a topless vampire walked past her, giving her the once over and smiling appreciatively. "God Roz, you may as well just run around naked."

"I'll take your suggestion into tantalising consideration."

Char rolled her eyes and followed her into the boxing room, eyeing the empty ring apprehensively. Last time she had gone into the ring with her friend they had both ended up surrendering; as fast as vampires healed, such aggression they liked to save for more deserving opponents. "Please tell me we aren't going in there again."

"Oh Satan no," Roz languidly replied, leaning against the ring's barriers, "I just wanted a smoke."

"You brought me in here so I could witness you smoking in a smoke-free environment?"

Roz reached into her sports bag and retrieved a cigarette and lighter, swiftly lighting up and inhaling. Char almost looked away; sometimes she wondered whether smoking was the equivalent to sex for Roz. "Yes, yes I did."

"Actually," she began again, withdrawing her cigarette, "I need to talk to you about Seb."

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"Then I don't care."

"He's getting married."

"I don't want to know."

"Her name is Cinder Redfern."

"What did I just say?"

"Do I look like I give a fuck, Char? Really, do I?"

She glared at Roz and gritted her teeth. "Maybe you should, because you're wasting your breath."

"Fine, you know what, fuck it. You come and ask me when it suits you; when you need to know."

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_The past - **20 years ago**:_

Char numbly wiped her mouth, not caring to think too much about the crimson liquid she had just ingested with such zest. Her eyes drifted over the table to Seb; he hadn't stopped looking at her. But if she was honest, she had hardly stopped looking at him. She had wanted to die, not because she saw death as a cure to her pain, but because she had not wanted to be a hunter; she had not wanted to be a vampire. Char's eyes drifted to look out of the kitchen and into the lounge where Roz lay on the sofa, a bandage about her stomach, her breath coming short and shallow. Seb had almost killed his sister only to keep her alive.

"What have you done, Seb?"

He blinked. "I saved your life."

"I didn't want to be saved."

"Your judgement was and still is clouded by the death of Sade."

"Yes, because you know me so well," Char snapped, looking abruptly away from him in anger.

Seb placed his hand on Char's, stroking it softly with his thumb. "Yes, I do. Give it time; you'll thank me one day."

Char looked down at his hand on hers and thought of Sade; her hand was Sade's. With that she slipped her hand out from under his and abruptly stood, proceeding to walk over to the doorway. "Never," she threw coldly back, imagining she wasn't walking out of the kitchen, but out of his life.

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_The present - **20 years later:**_

"What ever you're on about, you are probably dramatising it, as always," Char said, her eyes loosing their distant reflection to glance casually at her friend.

"Darlings!" both of the girls turned as Don Romano made a flourishing entrance into the boxing room. His appearance caused shock in Char's mind, amusement in Roz's; a change from his sweat decorated track outfit was a high fashion black suit. "It's Armani, baby, Armani."

"Well, Char, it would appear that parallel universes do exist."

"Don't deny it, darling, I was always sexy," he winked in her direction and Roz smiled invitingly.

Don was the resident parasitic sleaze and owner of the gym. His longish white hair and come hither brown eyes had been the cause of both many broken hearts, and many broken bank accounts. No one trusted him, but everyone needed him; he was the source. He was _the_ gossip.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't touch you with a tree," Roz drawled, dragging on her cigarette as Don made growling motions, "now, what's with Armani you poor bastard?"

"I came into some money."

Char raised her eye brows, meeting Roz's blank stare curiously. "That's never a good thing."

Don smiled dangerously. "Now, now, be happy for me."

"You mean your bank," Roz murmured, stubbing out her cigarette on the boxing mat.

"Hey!" don yelled, rushing over to grip Roz's wrist, "I may have some money, sweetheart, but I don't intended to spend it cleaning up after chain smoking lamia."

"Cleaning up isn't what you'll be worrying about if you don't let go of me. Right now," Roz clipped, her hand hovering dangerous above his hand as her eyes burned into his.

Don quickly removed his hand from hers and stepped back. "You know what, you can damage my gym equipment any day, baby, any day. Just as long as it's my _gym_ equipment."

Roz stared up at him emotionless, all flirtation gone. "I'll damage anything I want. Now leave."

Don backed quickly out of the room, an uneasy smile pasted on his face. "God damnit," Roz mumbled, reaching towards her bag for another cigarette, "I fucking hate it when people touch me without permission."

"Oh yes, before I forget," Char began, frowning as she took out her pony tail, "we have a possible answer to those increased vampire killings. Well, possible culprits, at least."

"Do tell," Roz uttered, lighting her cigarette.

"Conrad Lhar; a tiger shapeshifter. He's been in town about a week – arrived just as the killings started. He's also been seen with a vampire; Evan."

"Evan. So we finally have a reason to kill the asshole?"

"Kind of."

Roz narrowed her eyes. "Give me a reason."

"When we get a reason, he's mine. I believe it was my $100 purse he stole."

"Yeah, but you forget. Who was the one who ruined a $300 pair of shoes chasing after the bastard?"

"He's mine," Char asserted, putting a hand on her hip.

Roz nodded her surrender, inhaling and wondering what it was like to kill a shapeshifter.

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Char was walking home from the gym under the dark night sky. There was no moon, no stars; there was only a purple haze created by the lights from the city, the one which she was gladly retreating from. Roz had gone to visit her parents, leaving Char, to her relief, alone. She didn't know whether her friend realised it had been this day precisely twenty years ago she had become a vampire, unwillingly so. She didn't mind if she didn't; she would love to forget it herself. Char had had a few cold and short lived encounters with Seb since that day, but other than that, she was skilled at avoiding him at every turn.

The ground was wet, and with every step her purple sneakers caused water to slightly splash up and dot her baggy white yoga pants. She approached a street light and in a particularly large puddle she noticed her inky reflection, it wavered and then suddenly broke as she continued on her way, intentionally stepping in it.

She began to get a headache; the same headache. A headache not quite a headache. It was like a pulling at the back of her mind, a sharp tug, constant and determined; one which she had become resentfully used to. The dull ache it caused she could take, she could block it out, she could successfully ignore. But what she couldn't block or ignore was the thoughts and memories it found and unearthed, memories and thoughts of him; Sade. After twenty years without him she had not forgotten how she had felt when their lips had brushed, nor the image of how perfect her hands had fit in his that one day, that one day which seemed to contain everything.

But everything has changed now, she thought as she noted the slight rustle in the bushes ahead of her. Everything has changed.

A man stepped out of the bushes one metre ahead of her, the picture of a fool; fat, bald, dirty, presumably homeless, and harbouring a pocket knife which was really quite pathetic. "Your money, give it here." His eyes were shifty, and his hand shook with intoxication.

He reeked of alcohol.

Char raised her eyebrows and stepped quickly forward to kick downwards on his left kneecap, hearing a satisfying click and a scream of pain as the man crumpled to the ground, whimpering. She looked down carelessly at his body, and then stepped over him, wondering if she had been that pathetic when she was mortal.

Roz and Char were the controllers of Auckland city. After Sade's death, Nightworld activity began to increase and didn't stop; it became clear that the situation was going to need some interference. Nightworlders who came into Auckland posing a threat were quickly killed by not so mysterious means; the police turning a relieved blind eye to the bodies discovered, how ever rarely, with a stake through them. There were of course the big boys; but they seemed to behave after an encounter with Roz, an encounter which always remained a mystery.

She didn't know what she'd do without Roz; she had been the reason she still lived, both emotionally and physically. She'd trained her, looked after her, and told her to get over herself whenever she got too immersed in regret.

Char approached the flat, its lack of life looking dark and inviting.

---------------------------------------

Roz sat at the dining table opposite her brother, both of her parents at its heads. She stared up at Seb through her eyelashes, resenting how similar they looked; both having chocolate brown eyes and the bronze complexion. She hated him. But unlike Char, she didn't have the luxury of making that emotion dangerously clear.

Roz knew that if ever she fought her brother, it wouldn't end 'til one of them was dead.

"So Sebastian," Mrs. Moss started, placing down her glass, "when are we going to be able to see this lovely Cinder of yours again?"

"Yes do tell; I found her stupidity just Charming," Roz drawled, beginning to play innocently with a lock of her hair, Seb looking severely in her direction.

Mr. Moss dragged on his cigar. "Rosemary."

"Father," Roz countered, shifting her gaze to him.

"Firstly, I can arrange for you to see Cinder sometime next week if you would like, mother," Seb started, still glaring at his sister, "and secondly, Roz, I would appreciate if you did not call my fiancé stupid."

"It has been a long time since I have cared what you appreciated, brother."

"Rosemary, Sebastian, please," their mother interjected sternly, "your drama is all too tiring."

Mr. Moss examined his wife; her hair was loose that night with its black waves flowing down her back, her dark gaze held a quiet anger. She looked into his eyes then and she calmed a little, taking a deep breath. They knew what their son had done to their daughter and they knew about Char; though Roz and Sebastian thought they were ignorant of the facts. Such incidents continued to be a point of disappointment and sadness to them both.

"Yes, I agree. You really should kill Sebastian," Roz said, sitting back in her seat and smirking, "he is a tiring and loathsome creature. Just imagine how perfect I'd be without him."

"Oh please," Seb interjected, taking a sip of his blood, "if they killed anyone it would be you, Rosemary. You never were quite right by any stretch of the imagination."

"I bet your imagination isn't the only thing you've tried to stretch." Roz noted the bulging of her mother's eyes and the raised eye brows of her brother and father as she pretended to innocently examine her red fingernails. They really did need perfecting, her secret was to put some clear layers over the-

"Rosemary, that is quite enough," Mr. Moss finally asserted, stubbing out his cigar on the glass ashtray, "this is not the correct environment for you to be making such comments."

"Devon!" Mrs. Moss scolded her husband, "there is no correct environment to be making such comments. Incorrect environment indeed."

"I agree," Seb stated, playing with the rim of his glass, "when are you going to learn, Rosemary, that such references are not fitting for a lady; even for one of your quality."

Roz narrowed her eyes. "Oh yes, you'd be one to know about quality. Quality over quantity I believe is what you chant to yourself as you fall asleep each night."

Seb smirked. "At least I fall asleep in the same bed each night."

"That is enough," Devon stated firmly, "you will stop and you will leave. Try not to kill each other one the way out; I hate stains."

"Certainly, Father," Roz got swiftly up and kissed both of her parents on the cheek, lingering near Seb. "Sweet dreams," she whispered, leaning down to brush her lips across his jaw. She delighted in the tension she sensed in his shoulders, increasing as she let her lips lower and linger beside his neck a moment too long.

"Goodnight, Rosemary," Sebastian clipped, and she straightened up, eyeing him smugly.

She quickly turned and walked briskly away, hardly wanting to cause a mess.

Roz got to the front door, but stopped her hand before it could touch the door knob. She could sense someone, or something, unfamiliar. Resisting the urge to go out the back door and let Seb deal with it, she swung the door open with her left hand, her right hand beside her weapon wielding thigh.

The stranger who stood on the porch, Roz decided, was perfectly devour-able. His hair was a mixture of strawberry blond and ginger, poking off in all directions; his face was sharp and distinguished; and his lips, she noted softly, as inviting as the amused hue in his green eyes.

Roz leaned against the door frame and began drawing circles on her thigh, slowly smiling. "Why hello, is there anything I could possibly do for you?"

He grinned. "Well, you could close the door and pretend you never saw me."

Roz allowed her smile to fade and blankness replace the flirtation in her eyes. "No, that's not how I do things." She stepped out onto the porch and into the crisp air of the night, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Well how do you do things then?"

"My way."

"What's your way?"

Roz began the long walk down her parents' driveway, deciding she would let Seb deal with him. Her and Char preferred to walk everywhere, they did have a car, but they hated it. It tended to malfunction at the most inopportune times. "You wouldn't like my way," she clipped, speeding up her pace as the stranger began to follow. He was Nightworld.

"How would you know?"

"Most don't want to die."

"But I'm not dead," he mused, matching her pace, suddenly beside her.

Roz stopped, and watched him carefully as he stepped in closer, allowing her hand to linger below her hip. "How observant of you. Now are you going to follow me home? Because if you are, I'll save you the walk and kill you now."

It was then that the stranger did the most unpredictable thing, and Roz resisted the urge to flinch. He raised his hand to linger beside her cheek. "Don't touch me."

"Why not?"

It felt as though he were touching her, though his hand was at least a centimetre away. And she found herself knowing exactly what it would feel like for him to graze her skin, so softly. "Because I don't want you to touch me. Don't make me shatter every fucking vertebra in your spine."

His eyes seemed to be in turmoil, torn between a single touch or a strategically broken spine. Roz even thought she could see a crack in their brilliant green surface. He lowered his hand. "You won't even let me touch you once? I'll touch your thumb; thumbs are most unexciting."

"No."

"I'll let you touch me."

Roz smiled. "You're an idiot." She broke into a steady jog, intending to keep it up until she reached home; trying desperately to dismiss the relief of avoiding his touch.

His skin touching her skin; so exposed.

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It was 12 am when Char heard the flick of a lighter out in the hallway, announcing Roz's arrival home. She was lying in bed, looking into the darkness, not really thinking, not really awake, and not really asleep. She was just absent.

There was a soft knock on her door, "Char, babe, are you awake?"

"Yeah, come in."

The door creaked opened and a body was suddenly jumping unadulterated onto the mattress, a graceless motion most unappreciated. Roz lay her head down opposite Char's and sighed; the lamia was exhausted.

"How did it all go?" Char inquired softly, the darkness complimenting the topic.

"Oh it went ok, and as usual. Petty insults, deathly looks, and threats were exchanged; Seb and I both coming out in one bloody piece, if not pissed off. Though, I did have an interesting encounter."

"Really?" Char perked up. She liked encounters, especially Roz's ones, they always tended to be interesting.

"Yes. I don't know who it was, but they wanted to touch me."

Char began to laugh, suddenly completely awake and somehow sensing the Roz was not even half as amused. "He wanted to touch you?"

"Yes. Would please stop asking stupid questions? Yes, I did have an encounter and yes, he wanted to touch me. Two idiots in one night, how inspiring."

"When did you, ah, encounter, him?" Char asked, ignoring her.

"About fifteen minutes ago."

"He really got to you."

"I should have asked you to stop being stupid, in general," Roz scolded.

"Not even Seb gets you this up tight; this really is quite an event. Anyway, continue, what else happened?"

Roz thought of all the different ways she could kick her friend. "He then said that he would let me touch him."

Char smiled gleefully. "This is so kinky."

"I'm tempted to proclaim my undying hate for you," Roz drawled, wishing she hadn't taken her stilettos off.

"Anything else happen in this encounter?"

Roz remember the thoughts which had materialised in her head with his hand that close to her skin, how she had almost-

"No."

"Alright then; go to bed, and tell me more when you feel like it," Char instructed, knowing that she was lying to her. Which disturbed her a little – Roz normally had no need to lie, no inclination to hide things. She was always control, and never allowed things to happen she didn't want to.

"Did he touch you?" Char blurted as Roz made a move to get off the bed.

"No one unwanted touches this, babe. Really, did you have to ask?"

Char frowned as Roz got up off the bed and walked out, closing the door conclusively behind her.

He hadn't touched her physically, at least.

-

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So now it's 20 years on; hmmm. Hehe. Comments and especially constructive criticisms are welcome. Hope you enjoyed :)


	5. Abuse of Beauty

Disclaimer: You know what I don't own. If you don't…what you doin' here, hun?

Summery: She is left to a life without her soulmate. She is left to a life with the Nightworld. She is left to a life, a conspiracy. Is it possible for the one you love most to be taken from you twice?

A/N: Thankyou to Annemarie Delacour, White-Wolf2, Dogs Die in Hot Cars, Incarnated-Soul, and Terriah for reading and reviewing; as you know, it's muchly appreciated. Hahaha, you ladies are having some very amusing plot guesses, let's see if you were right ;). Also, the story does still revolve around Char; don't worry, it will all come together and make sense in time (well, hopefully…). And I promise I'll finish the story, Miss Delacour :).

_"…gasping for air, knowing that air wasn't what she needed…"_

Life Rewritten – Abuse of beauty

"Please, tell me I don't smell like this?"

Char and Roz walked further into the bar, failing to disguise their revulsion at the smell of matured tobacco smoke. "Roz, I wouldn't be your friend if you smelt like this."

The bar, with its black walls, had a permanent haze in the air and a scattering of red tables and chairs; a comforting reminder one was standing on the ground and not on a cloud. They were looking for the shapeshifter and Evan, having decided they had nothing else better to do.

"You could have just said I didn't smell like that," Roz replied mildly, her craving for a cigarette suddenly diminished.

Footsteps could be heard thundering down some stairs, followed by the arrival of a furious vampire behind the bar, a deep scowl etched into his face. "What the bloody hell are you two doing here? We're closed, and you'll pay for that bloody door!" The angry English accented voice belonged to Evan, owner of the smoke plagued bar. His blond hair fell clumsily over his pasty face, and a deep scar disappeared under his white singlet top. He appeared to be slightly pissed off.

Char looked behind her at the door Roz had so obligingly kicked open, the lock and a hinge thoroughly broken. "We didn't do that."

Evan made a wild gesture towards the entrance, his eyes flashing. "What planet are you on, girlie? I heard it bloody happen and you're the only ones with enough proverbial bloody balls to do it!"

Roz and Char raised their eyebrows and looked at each other, nonchalant.

"Well, what do you want then?" Evan asked impatiently after the vampires didn't reply.

"We want to talk to you and Conrad Lhar," Roz answered coldly, placing a hand on her hip.

"I don't know a Conrad Lhar."

Roz reached under her short black skirt to retrieve a black stake, one tip silver, and one tip wood. Great for parties. "Well, that's all the proof I need." Char laughed at the slight widening of Evan's eyes as Roz slinked her way over to the bar.

"Christ, ok," Evan said, holding out a hand as if that would fend her off, "Lhar! Get the bloody hell down here!" he yelled up the stairs, his voice projecting at deafening volumes.

Roz tossed a smile back at her friend, returning the stake to underneath her skirt, smugly aware of Evan inching himself further down the bar, no doubt to get a weapon or just away.

Char suddenly glimpsed a head pop around the stairs, the shapeshifter's approach obviously having been more languid and graceful than the Evan's. "Yes?"

Roz whipped her attention to the owner of what should have been a new voice. "Typical," she stated ominously as Char stepped up beside her.

Lhar's eyes locked on Roz's and he grinned. "Why hello, is there anything I could possibly do for you?"

"Hey, isn't that _your_-," Char was silenced by a death look from her friend, obviously, yes, that was her line. Lhar's grin turned into a smirk as he took his place behind the bar, leaning on it casually.

"What are their names?" Lhar mildly asked Evan, who was looking bored beside the liquor cabinet across the room.

"The blondish one is Char Winters, the other is Roz Moss – they're like the police, 'cept they put people in hell, not jail."

"So you two are like legal assassins?" Lhar inquired, smiling slightly.

"Well, assassin is such a strong word…," Char trailed off, having never really thought about it like that.

"Yes, too stronger word," Roz agreed, "wouldn't you say we were more like exterminators, babe?"

"Yeah, something like that," she replied, "we're like those people you call to get rid of cockroach infestations."

"Except we don't wear those hideous overalls, how unflattering," Roz smoothly added, satisfied by the definition.

"So, you've come to kill us?" Evan asked, lacking enthusiasm.

"No, not today," Char assured, "you could almost say we've come to give an inspection and issue a quote."

The too women looked at each other, frowning. "Wow," Roz murmured, "we're so uncool right now."

"Moving along," Char pushed, determined to snap out of the metaphor, "have you two been unnecessarily killing vampires?"

"Well yes, we have been killing vampires," Lhar stated, stepping out from behind the bar.

Char tilted her head; he wasn't supposed to admit it. "Ok then, care to explain yourself?"

"They were giving us trouble," he replied, looking darkly at Roz.

"The vampires killed were Daybreakers; they don't cause trouble," Char countered coldly, her eyes narrowing as he came closer. "And stay right where you are."

"No, if we are going to fight, I want to fight now," he replied, throwing a quick look back at Evan; his friend's blasé face transforming into one of blatant horror.

Char resisted the urge to giggle and locked eyes with her friend. "Ok then."

Roz watched as Char walked away from her towards the petrified Evan, at a sudden loss for words. She didn't want to touch him. "Hello, sweetheart, how are you today?" Lhar inquired softly as she slid her hand down her thigh.

"Oh I'm perfect," she replied, withdrawing her stake from its holster.

"Really? Because I'd swear that was disquiet which flashed through your eyes before," he purred, reaching behind his back to grasp his own stake. She looks feline, he thought as her eyes seemed to snarl, so dark they seemed to swirl.

Roz took a fighting stance and allowed the silver tip of her stake to rest momentarily against her cheek; its ice exterior somehow grounding. "I was just debating whether to make you hurt or just purely kill you; do ignore me."

Evan yelled some English variation of profanity before Lhar heard a wholesome crash, that, he did disregard. "I'll never ignore you," he drawled, mirroring Roz's fighting pose and raising his white stake.

Roz's gaze increased in intensity; that was the only indication to him of attack as she kicked precisely out at his lower legs and allowed her momentum to carry the silver tipped stake towards his heart. Lhar managed to keep his balance as he was forced to change footing and gripped her wrist before the tip could find his skin, swiftly pulling her against him as he felt the air alter; felt it crackle. She let out a high pitched scream as her vision exploded in flashes of indefinable pictures, impossible lights; impossible sensations. His lips touched her cheek.

And suddenly, she wasn't alone.

She couldn't think as she stood with him in the shadows of a world composed of two dark minds; voices, echoes around her. She couldn't take it as she became lost in his soft green gaze, disconcertingly aware of how much she wanted to allow herself to fall into their weakening depths.

Roz felt the cruellest pain of her life as she rendered herself away from his mind, his spirit; his soul, feeling as though she were tearing herself in two. Her eyes flung open and she dived out of his arms, onto the floor; gasping for air, knowing that air wasn't what she needed.

Char had Evan half conscious against a wall and was about to stake him when she noticed Roz fall to the ground, realising her scream hadn't been a variation of a battle cry at all. She allowed the vampire to crumple to the floor and ran over to her friend, noting Lhar, breathing heavily with his head between his legs. "Roz? Roz, are you ok?"

She hurt.

----------------------------

Lhar lay on the floor of the bar after Char and Roz had left, aching. He didn't know what he had expected, but he knew he hadn't expected that. It wasn't supposed to hurt when you encountered your soulmate; you weren't supposed to come out of it feeling like you were supposed to be dead.

Roz, he concluded, was like no other.

"What the bloody hell was that you wally?" Evan thundered from his position over by the wall, splinters from the numerous broken tables and chairs clinging to his skin and clothes, "'if we're going to fight, I want to fight now'," he mocked, raising himself cautiously from the floor.

"You're just pissed because Winters kicked your ass, and she won't be the only one if you don't shut your tedious trap."

Evan glared at the shapeshifter and noted his wheezy breathing. "What happened to you then?"

"I touched her," he murmured, slowly sitting up, memories of the swirling deep purple haze of her mind sweeping through him, so lonely at his lack of opinion.

"And?"

Lhar looked at his hands; shaking as though they were something to be broken. "We'll see."

Evan stopped picking the splinters off his clothes to give the shifter a stern look. "You're behind then."

Lhar frowned. "Yes I am."

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Seb paced his lounge in the dim hours of the morning. Of the five vampire killings in the last week, two of them had been his men; his men never went down. It wasn't just worrying, it was disturbing. The disguise was perfect; Daybreakers, quiet, discreet, appeared to be always law abiding. No one knew of the power which lay behind the placid eyes of his men, the blood lust, the hunger for money and dominance which was so crucial to the cause; to him.

Ten men left and a few minors.

He walked over to the window to witness the slow rising of the sun, the shadowed cobalt blue which was streaked precisely across the awakening sky; its dimensions and depth reminding him of her eyes. His jaw tightened and he forced thoughts of Cinder into his head; her swirling brunette hair, her crisp grey eyes. But somehow as the picture materialised, it morphed into Char again, and he found himself, once more, reflected in her eyes under the hurt glaze of betrayal.

He turned abruptly away from the window and began to pace again, his hands clasped tight behind his back. It wasn't Roz or Char; they were investigating it. "It's no one local, no one I know; no one you know," Don had said obligingly after valuables had been exchanged to keep him informed. Which meant it was hired help.

Seb walked slowly into his bedroom, his eyes finding absently the sleeping figure in his bed, her long blond hair splayed dishevelled over the black pillows. He had to find who was targeting his men; obvious no matter how many other Daybreakers they killed to disguise it. He needed to find them, find out who they were working for, kill the assassin-

And then kill the next one they sent.

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Char carefully examined Roz as she smoked on the sofa; she was relaxed, casual, at ease. And yet she claimed that the soulmate principal had tried to kill her. Char didn't understand; when she had had her first experience with Sade it had been petrifying, but amazing, it was as though she had found something most didn't even know to look for.

"So you're sure he's your soulmate?"

"Oh yeah, positive," she dispassionately replied, taking another drag on her cigarette.

Char sighed; a seemingly easy situation had become tangibly complex. "So, what do you want to do now?"

"We continue as usual, you kill Evan, I kill the shifter." Roz really couldn't care less, in fact, she wondering which form shapeshifters died in. A tiger's head really would suit her décor.

Char's blood ran cold. "You want to kill your soulmate?"

"Yes. He's a threat, we kill threats. You want Evan, so I'll have what's left over."

"But, Roz," she began incredulously, "this is your soulmate. Your _soulmate_. You can't just go and buy another; you only have one. If you kill him, you-"

"I know; it's preferable." She looked as unreadable and cold as ever, her dark eyes as calm and tranquil as a rip; it was that expression which unnerved Char the most, which reminded her of the darker nature of her friend; unscrupulous.

Borderline unfeeling.

Roz narrowed her eyes. "Don't look so shocked. You know how I am, you know what I lack."

"But-"

Roz held up her hand. "Stop. There's a Nightworld ball on in two days; Evan always goes to those, and with a little luck, he'll bring-" she paused, and exhaled velvet tendrils of poison in the other vampire's direction, "Lhar."

Char frowned.

----------------------------

A shock of red hair flowed down his back; his shadowed green eyes glowed with unbalance; and he wanted to send the vampire to the one place his survival would be threatened. Drae Redfern sat on his desk and silently pierced the nonchalant vampire lounging in front of him, playing absent mindedly with a silver dart. "I should have sent you in the first place; to hunt for a specific Nightworlder, train them, brief them, and then send them on a mission without so much as a loyalty check really was, well-" Drae paused to stroke his cheek and frown in a look of distaste. "Stupid."

Sade looked coldly up from the silver dart.

"Oh don't give me that," Drae started, getting up to pace behind his generous sized obsidian desk, "I didn't send you because I genuinely didn't want to. But now, you have to go. So far, every assassin we've sent there has been killed without so much as half a success. Not only is this inconvenient, but how embarrassing," he drawled, stopping to lean on the back of his chair.

"Is he dead?" Sade mildly asked, looking back down at the dart, dull in the dim light of the office.

"No. But we are on a time limit and he is going impeccably slow."

"So I could get there, and it be done?"

Drae snorted. "There's that possibility but I highly doubt it. I know he will fail."

"Your faith could move governments," Sade drawled, unimpressed. He did not want to go.

Drae sat swiftly down in his chair and leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a concentration and steadfastness which only came with the partially insane. "All you have to do is go there and kill. Lhar is now the diversion, they will be concentrating on him; you will go unnoticed under the protection of an ignorant scapegoat."

Sade paused in his adamant rejection. "And you are sure he will fail?"

Drae's eyes filled with emptiness, a green which seemed to reflect everything; every feeling. "Do you really want to find out?"

----------------------------

Holy moley ;). Thanks for reading! Comments/constructive criticisms are very much appreciated.


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